The Poetry Corner

Riding Down From Bangor

By Louis Shreve Osborne

Riding down from Bangor, on an eastbound train After weeks of hunting, in the woods of Maine Quite extensive whiskers, beard, mustache as well Sat a student fellow, tall and slim and swell Empty seat behind him, no one at his side Into quiet village, eastern train did glide Enter aged couple, take the hindmost seat Enter village maiden, beautiful, petite Blushingly she faltered, Is this seat engaged? Sees the aged couple, properly enraged Students quite ecstatic, sees her ticket through Thinks of the long tunnel, thinks of what he will do Pleasantly they chatted, how the cinders fly Til the student fellow, gets one in his eye Maiden sympathetic, turns herself about May I if you please sir, try to get it out? Then the student fellow, feels a gentle touch Hears a gentle murmur, Does it hurt you much? Whiz! Slap! Bang! Into the the tunnel quite Into glorious darkness, black as Egypts night Out into the daylight glides that eastern train Students hair is ruffled, just the merest grain Maiden seen all blushes when then and there appeared A tiny little earring, in that horrid students beard.